


Love and Admiration

by holyfudgemonkeys (erraticallyinspired)



Series: A very jizzjazz rewrite [4]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, Dark Malcolm Bright, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Episode: s01e04 Designer Complicity, Established Malcolm Bright/John Watkins, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, I cannot stress that enough y'all, JizzJazz, M/M, Morning Sex, Murder Husbands, Reminiscing, Somnophilia, he's dark in these, mentions of mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:03:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27393931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erraticallyinspired/pseuds/holyfudgemonkeys
Summary: Seeing the careful way Tatiana's death was staged reminds Malcolm of simpler times.---A snippet from "Designer Complicity" for my established Malcolm/John series.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Paul Lazar | John Watkins
Series: A very jizzjazz rewrite [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1897057
Comments: 12
Kudos: 14





	Love and Admiration

There was something beautiful about the body in the tub. Something so meticulous and fascinating about a crime scene with _that_ much thought put into it. Whoever killed their vic admired her, or, at the very least, that photoshoot. They studied it. They knew every single speck of glitter, every line and angle of her body in relation to her surroundings, even the exact shade of blue. There was care in the way they posed her, too. Her hands clasped the edges of the tub, her legs pressed up against each other in an alluring curve. The blue of her skin held up well in the water. None of it washed off or bled. 

She was _gorgeous_. 

Malcolm couldn’t help but crouch down next to the tableau and take it in up close. 

He’s still thinking about it that night. It’s one of the few cases he knows he’ll delight in sharing with his husband. John, of course, won’t appreciate the beauty of it, not in the most obvious meaning of the word. No, he’ll scoff at the glitter and the body paint, but he’ll understand the message. The worship. The care that went into it. 

John’s working right now, in fact. Otherwise he’d be putting a lot of _care_ into Malcolm right now, into the goal they’re both pursuing doggedly — their family, their legacy. 

It’s a shame that Malcolm hasn’t had the time to join him in his other work. He remembers cold nights at the junkyard back when they were still courting. He remembers perching on the hoods of broken cars with a cup of cheap cocoa and John’s warmth lightly pressed against his side. He remembers listening as John explained his work. He was fascinated, still is. 

As their courting progressed, as Malcolm found himself falling deeper and deeper, sinking his claws into John and dragging him down with him, their talks moved from the middle of the junkyard to _below_ the junkyard. To John’s workspace. His studio. 

Malcolm was never as interested in punishing addicts as his husband, but he liked to watch him work. He helped, too, let John guide him in his rituals. On a few memorable occasions, Malcolm was there when his latest mission broke. When they repented and accepted their inevitable death. 

The more and more Malcolm works with Gil, the more and more he thinks about those days. They’ve no shortage of interesting murders in New York, and Tatiana is only the latest Major Crimes has gotten their hands on, but it’s not what he had with John all those years ago. 

He misses it. 

John comes home very late that night. Or, very early that morning, if Malcolm were in the mood to be pedantic. He makes himself a PB&J, eats it standing over the sink, letting out a hum of acknowledgement as Malcolm molds himself up against his back. John smells fresh. He must have stopped by his childhood home for a quick shower and change. He’s always been good about keeping any potential heat off of Malcolm.

Malcolm presses the side of his face into his husband’s shoulder. “Tired?”

“Unfortunately,” John murmurs, and he really does sound regretful. Today is the first day since Malcolm came back to the city that they haven’t ended up fucking. “Sorry, little Malcolm.”

But it’s not a big deal. Malcolm is tired, actually. Not tired enough to fall asleep when it was just him in their bed, but with John draped over him, it won’t take much for him to nod off. “We have more than enough time.” He still has a good amount of time to carry, after all. 

John finishes his last bite, licks a smear of jelly off his palm, and dislodges Malcolm so that he can turn around. “We have the rest of our lives.” Because John will love him even if they aren’t blessed with a child of their own.

Feeling like a puddle of goo, Malcolm reaches up and brushes a few bread crumbs from his beard. “We do. Bed?”

“Mmhm. You have an early morning.”

And Malcolm does. He’s the first to wake. John often wakes when he does, feeling him shift, but he must have had a trying night. Malcolm knows his newest catch is still resisting. 

An idea hits him. 

Slipping his head under the covers, he eases a hand into his husband’s boxers. His cock is thick against his thigh, not quite hard yet, but Malcolm can work with this. He tugs him out through the fly. Grips him gently. Licks a stripe up his palm and uses his spit to stroke him until he stiffens, lengthens as he fills out. 

John shifts. His legs open to give Malcolm more room. His breathing is still even. 

Malcolm wraps his lips around the head and laps at the slit. He catches a bead of precome, moans at the salty taste of it. 

The vibration must have done it. The blanket lifts until John is looking down at him blearily. His hair is wild from a night of shifting against the pillows. He chuckles sleepily and threads a hand in Malcolm’s own mussed locks, not pushing but present all the same. “Good morning to me.”

Humming, Malcolm takes in another inch. He leans into the touch as he flattens his tongue along John’s length. 

“That’s it.”

Malcolm breathes through his nose and, catching John’s gaze, sinks down as far as he can on the first pass. They both know he can take _all_ of him in, that he can bury his nose in the thick, graying curls at the base of John’s cock once he’s warmed up enough. He swallows and pulls back. 

“Are you that hungry for me?” His husband’s voice is as gruff as it is fond. “Won’t be long, little Malcolm.”

So Malcolm picks up his pace. He takes more on the next pass. And then more. And more. He pushes with every dip until John’s cock is down his throat, the muscles there clenching around the intrusion. He stays there as long as he can. His eyes tear up, his throat constricts. 

John pulls him off with a gentle hand even as his hips try to follow the movement, watches as the tip of his cock comes to rest on Malcolm’s tongue. “Ready?”

Malcolm curls his tongue around him again before letting him fall from his mouth. “Yes, dear.”

Feeding himself back into his husband’s mouth, John grunts and tightens his grip on his hair. He _uses_ Malcolm now. He guides him down and works his head up and down, their eyes still locked, the both of them revelling in the choked moans and gasps and filthy, wet noises Malcolm makes. 

In the end, it’s Malcolm who ends what he started. Even as John moves him, he purposefully swallows, makes sure to make his throat as tight of a sleeve as it can be. He claws at the bed as John’s hips fuck up into his face, his cock throbbing and spilling right down into his stomach. 

“What was that for?” John says, minutes later. It’s the first sentence he’s managed since. 

Malcolm reluctantly gets out of bed to get dressed. He’s needed at the precinct. “Because I love you.”

His husband chuckles. “Love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! Kinktober and some other projects took my attention off this one for a while, but here's episode four for y'all! I'm hoping to work on episode five in the next week or so and update this series without such a big gap going forward if possible <3


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